


Stiles...Has Potential

by Obsessivecompulsivereadr



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Tagged like that just in case, Underage but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-04
Updated: 2012-09-04
Packaged: 2017-11-13 12:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obsessivecompulsivereadr/pseuds/Obsessivecompulsivereadr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He would be lying if he said he was shocked that Peter was alive again, because so much shittiness had been happening over the past few months, that of course… of course Peter Hale didn’t stay dead.  Stiles didn’t have that kind of luck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stiles...Has Potential

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Daughter_of_Scotland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daughter_of_Scotland/gifts).



> This is just a one-shot, and it's a gift for Caliena, who wanted a Stiles/Peter discussion after the warehouse scene. I hope I did it justice.

“Well now, if it isn’t Stiles,” Peter Hale smirked where he stood, back from the dead.  His arms were crossed casually in front of him, as if the entire night hadn’t just happened.  

As if Jackson hadn’t just died. 

Then rose from the ashes, only to die again.   And then rose again, this time as a werewolf.  

A very naked werewolf that Lydia was still _very_ much in love with.

Maybe Jackson and Peter could bond now that they had being resurrected in common, Stiles thought with unrestrained snark before he shook his head to get his thoughts back in order.

The entire night had been enough to make his head spin, and he refused to let anybody see how much it had affected him. Especially not Peter Hale.

It’s not that he wanted Jackson to be dead.  Not like he _really_ wanted Peter to still be dead.  It was more that apparently Jackson and Lydia had some kind of epic love that Stiles was never ever going to be able to compete with.  The tears he’d shed had not been about losing her, because he’d never had Lydia to begin with. 

The tears had been because he’d finally accepted that he never would. 

He really just wanted to go home and check on his father, maybe see if Derek was okay with telling his father what was going on because the lies were killing him.  And they were killing his father too. 

But going home was not on the menu right now, because the former alpha was staring at him as if he knew something that Stiles clearly did not know. 

Or want to know.  Because anything Peter Hale knew that he didn’t couldn't possibly be good for Stiles.

Stiles stared at him, “What the hell?”

He would be lying if he said he was _shocked_ that Peter was alive again, because so much shittiness had been happening over the past few months, that of course… _of course_ Peter Hale didn’t stay dead.  Stiles didn’t have that kind of luck.

“Did you miss me?” Peter’s head tilted slightly and his smirk turned into a grin. 

A really creepy grin.  A lecherous, creepy grin.

“No, not really.  I was down for the whole burning you to death thing, remember?” Stiles deadpanned back at him. 

He was done being intimidated by werewolves on power trips.  He looked around to see who might be there for backup, but of course, no one was there. 

They didn’t _do_ backup for Stiles.  Stiles did backup for them.  That’s how the town of Beacon Hills worked.  That’s how Stiles’s life worked.

Scott was nowhere to be seen, and he probably off making up with Allison now that the confrontation was over.  Lydia had taken Jackson somewhere, probably not home until he got his shifting under control.  Derek’s Betas were probably where Derek was. 

Which was _not here_. 

Perfect. 

“Looking for your friends?” Peter’s voice lowered, as if he knew where Derek and the Betas were and didn’t want them to overhear him. 

“No,” Stiles answered, knowing that Peter would sense the lie immediately.

“Regretting your decision now?”

“Regretting that I didn’t end up as a pawn in your game?  No, not so much,” Stiles’s chin lifted.

“Still full of fire, aren’t you Stiles?  I like that about you.  I saw that in you, but I see things in you nobody else does, don’t I?” Peter began circling him.

Stiles didn’t answer, because whatever game Peter was playing was not something Stiles was interested in going along with.

“What do you want?” Stiles stretched his neck and popped the bones there, relieving some of the ache from the beating he’d been given earlier. 

“Why do you continue to resist your potential?” Peter stopped in front of him again, crossing his arms and staring at him.

“What potential?  As far as I know, I’m only a spark.  What possible potential can I have?”

He hated admitting it…admitting the truth to anybody else.  Especially Peter Hale. 

Stiles was tired of feeling useless, and he was tired of always hurting.  Hurting physically as well as mentally.  He was tired of lying to his dad.  He was tired of always feeling second best because he wasn’t as fast.  He wasn’t as strong.  He couldn’t heal.  He couldn’t fight. 

He felt _pointless_. 

And just tired.

“You don’t see it,” Peter sounded exasperated.  “Why can’t you see what I see?”

“Because.  It’s.  Not.  There.”  Stiles turned on his heel and began walking out of the warehouse, looking around to see if there were any other wolves around. 

“It’s there, Stiles.  Deaton sees it, and so do I,” Peter’s voice was close.  Too close for Stiles’s comfort.

As if he’d teleported right behind Stiles. 

Seriously, he had better creeper skills than Derek, and that was saying something.

Stiles stopped walking but didn’t turn around, “How do you know what Deaton sees in me?”

“Why, you told me of course,” Peter tried.

“Oh no,” Stiles turned to him.  “I said I was only a spark.  That tells you nothing.  What do you and Deaton know?”

Peter crowded into Stiles’s personal space, but he refused to step back.  He refused to give Peter that kind of control over him. 

“I know more than you realize.  More than Derek realizes.  I should have turned _you_.  Not your friend.”

“No shit,” Stiles shot back.  “I thought you figured that out a long time ago.”

“I was.  Well, I was a little out of it that night.  Had you been an option for me, I’d have chosen correctly.  But I can’t get everything I want, I suppose,” Peter grinned at him, and the sight made Stiles again question Peter’s fluidity. 

Because each time Peter looked at him like that, it was as if he were fighting off the urge to just take. 

Take _Stiles._  

Whether Stiles wanted it or not.

“Back the fuck off me,” Stiles ground out.  “I said no.  You can’t turn me now.  And you will leave me alone.”

And he was _not_ upset that the only person who actually wanted to turn him was unable to do it now.  Because that was an insane line of thinking that he really couldn't deal with right now.

“I’m not sure I can, Stiles,” Peter shrugged with absolutely no shame.  “I’m not sure anybody can leave you alone.  There’s something about you that’s just so tempting.”

“Well, you can just deal with it.  Because I’m not helping you.  I’m not doing anything for you.  And you’re not touching me,” Stiles stepped back and turned again to walk away.

“Does Derek know?”

Stiles stopped, pretty sure he knew what Peter was talking about.  “About what?”

“That I offered you the bite.  That I’d offer it again if I could.  That I’d turn you in a second if I had the opportunity.”

Stiles hesitated before answering, unsure how much he should admit.  He hadn’t told Derek for specific reasons. 

He’d almost… well, _liked_ …knowing that Peter saw potential in him, and he didn’t want that potential being bastardized in everybody else’s eyes simply because Peter was the only person who saw it.  Peter's obvious insanity would make any opinion he had of Stiles invalid in everybody else's eyes, and Stiles was just tired of everybody discounting him.  No matter how much he saw it and discounted himself, he couldn't help but feel hurt each time a pack member confirmed for him that he was useless.

“No.”

“I thought not.  He hasn’t mentioned it to me, and I think he would if he knew.”

Stiles doubted it.  All Derek seemed to care about was shutting Stiles up. 

“Why?”

“Don’t you know, Stiles?”

“Jesus, what is with you people and your non-answers.  No, I don’t know.  Because unlike you, Derek doesn’t seem to want to converse with me about pedowolfish tendencies.”

“That hurts Stiles.  It’s so unfair,” Peter pouted.

“Look, I’m done.  Tell him.  Don’t tell him.  I don’t give a fuck,” Stiles took the keys from his pocket and headed toward his jeep.  His baby had been through almost as much as he had tonight.

“No, I don’t think I will, Stiles.  I think some things should just be between you and me, don’t you?” Peter grinned at him, stalking towards him as Stiles climbed into the jeep and started it. 

Stiles couldn’t help but think this conversation was a going to come back and haunt him later.

“Back up.  I’m leaving.”

“Fine.  But keep one thing in mind, Stiles.”

Stiles gave a quick shake of his head and stared out the window for a few moments before his resolve hardened. 

He turned his head to look at Peter, “What?”

“When it comes down to making the important decisions, remember me.”

“It’s hard to forget somebody who won’t even fucking die,” Stiles replied sardonically.

“So harsh.  But I like harsh.”

“Get to the fucking point,” Stiles countered.

“I meant that you should remember who saw that potential first.  Because as far as I’m concerned, I have dibs on you.”

“You can’t have dibs on turning me if you can’t fucking turn me,” Stiles smirked.

“I never said anything about turning you, Stiles.  Let me be clearer.  As far as I’m concerned, you’re mine.”

Stiles’s mouth dropped open slightly, and he watched Peter lick his lips before turning and walking away. 

Stiles couldn’t even put the jeep into drive, because he was too freaked out.  He knew Peter had issues, and being a crazed alpha who was essentially murdered before coming back from the dead couldn’t do anything but make those issues more rampant. 

But really. 

 _Peter Hale_ wanted _him_? 

Seriously, what kind of life did Stiles have?  


End file.
